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Monday, October 29, 2007

Australian Idol 07 Wrap Up: Aussie Hits Night RESULTS

Welcome to the Monday night pad-fest, kids!

All the Idols are looking a bit worse for wear after last night's ARIA awards, at which (if my mate Scootikins who was actually there is to be believed) Mr Marty Simpson got a bit tipsy. Ok, so he got shitfaced. Allegedly. I wonder if he started belting out "Thi-is night turned out nothing like I had plaaaaaaned" when he woke up in a dumpster under the Harbour Bridge.

Tonight appears to be fancy dress night in the Idol studio: Holden's come as a cowwboy, Marcia's dressed as a nun, Dicko's a private school boy at a boat race and Kyle... well, who's looking at Kyle? Let's just thank the lord Matt Corby has fended off Sheridan Tyler long enough to put something semi decent on. What is it? I don't know, who cares, all I know is it's NOT a nightie with lego men all over it.

Anyway, let's cut to the chase here. Some stuff happens, Ricki Lee shows off her thighs, they show footage of Tarisai doing her nut at Holden in a very Jerry Springer-esque way, more stuff happens, blah blah blah.

Tarisai and Marty are first into the bottom three. Surprise, surprise. Natalie, Carl and Matt are left on the bench - my money's on Matt to be rounding out the numbers.

Lucky then I'm not a betting girl, as Natalie's the last to be called into the bottom three. Bugger. ARE YOU SERIOUS? No really, are you?


Bastard Monkey Boy throws to a break - NO YOU SCUM, JUST TELL US THE RESULT FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!

"We should press on," says Ken Doll when he comes back from the break. YOU THINK?

"Going home tonight is... Tarisai Vushe."

OH THANK THE LORD ABOVE. Natalie is safe, the Bratz doll hits the road, earplug companies all around Australia instantly go out of business.

And to conclude tonight's results show wrap up, a quote from my Idol sidecar Raoul Duke.

"Bloody hell she's small! Sure it's Tarisai? More like BONSAI."

Bye, Bonsai.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Australian Idol 07 wrap up: Aussie Hits Night

So it's ARIAs time again, the Australian music industry's night of nights. I only half watched it, but it probably went something like this:

  • Rove delivers an unfunny monologue and attempts to connect with "the kids" by quoting a few Sneaky Sound System songs

  • James Matheson tries to chat up The Veronicas

  • A former Idol wins the award for the highest selling something or other

  • Someone wins "Best Breakthrough Artist" despite having already released 11 albums over the past 15 years

  • Missy. Bernard. Delta.

  • Hamish Blake wears a suit, looks completely hot

  • Someone gets their cock out and

  • Daniel Johns shows how shit his voice is these days by boldly attempting to sing one of his own songs.

Of course, when it comes to Idol, the arrival of the ARIAs night can only mean one thing - AUSSIE MUSIC NIGHT. Or actually, "Aussie hits night" which, as it turns out, is a rather generous title - Thirsty Merc, anyone?

But first, QUICKNEWS:

  • Holden gives Matt Corby a bit of performance advice which basically amounts to "Be more like Shane Warne". Women around the country excitedly check their mobile phones for incoming text messages.

  • Natalie Gauci shows off the new skills she's learned in her recent WEA course, "Furniture climbing for beginners".

  • Marty Simpson continues to delve deep into his past and dig up painful family memories to reenact in order to keep Holden happy.

  • Tarisai Vushe pouts, whines and bitches excessively about being called "fake" on the radio, and in so doing proves that her "real" self is a pouting, whining bitch.

  • Carl Risely achieves two seemingly impossible feats by a) making Little River Band sexy, and b) getting through an entire performance without getting out his trumpet. Unlike Axel Whitehead at last year's ARIAs.

So let's get straight into it then with some HOT, FLAMIN', 100% AUSSIE GOLD, courtesy of Matt "Maybe I'm not such a dead cert to win this thing after all, eh Natalie Gauci?" Corby.

Matt's obviously misheard the evening's theme as "Aussie Shits" night, and chosen Thirsty Merc's 20 Good Reasons. I'll give you one good reason not to sing that song Matt - it's crap. But we press on.

All the Idols have been working with Holden this week under the mistaken notion that it will actually help their performances. This basically amounts to a lot of footage of Holden sitting at a big mixing desk furrowing his brow while intermittently exclaiming "HARMONICS!", "PHRASING!", "PITCH!". It's all very Spinal Tap - we keep waiting for him to flick a few switches and mix the vocals in Dobbly.

"He really needs to cut through with that wa-a-a-a-ah," says Holden, while Matt sits in the background, busily sharpening his wa-a-a-a-ah so it will cut through better.

"You know Shane Warne? All I would say is be Warney about it, mate," says Holden, before continuing his cricket analogy by telling Matt to get out his googlies and polish his balls.

Back on stage, and Matt's scored the holy nanna trinity by getting his hair cut, putting on a nice, smart jacket and sitting at the piano to give us all a sing song. Don't get me wrong, I personally would have LOVED to have seen him in that natty Lego man dress from last week's verdict show - it was just so manly and flattering.

But a change is as good as a holiday.

Matt proves why he actually has more fans than Thirsty Merc by doing a superb version of an extremely crap song - it's full of emotion and it's beautifully sung. Not to mention his wa-a-a-a-ah which cuts through like a hot knife in butter. He still doesn't look up at the audience at all, but they couldn't give a toss. Except for one person who gives a bunch of roses a toss right onto the stage. What is he, Dame Nellie Melba? He sang Phantom LAST week, loser.

Dicko says if Matt stitched together all of his Idol performances so far, he could make a nice big blanket they could auction off for charity to donate to kids with cancer. Alternatively, he could turn it into a tablecloth and wear it around his neck like in the good old days.

"Having said that," says Marcia, forgetting that it was actually Dicko that said that, not her.

"You were singing about something very sad there," she continues, clearly talking about Rai Thistlethwayte's career.

And it started with such promise, too.

"Are you alright? You look upset to me," says Kyle. He's just sung Thirsty Merc on national TV for goodness' sake, give him a break.

Matt mumbles something in monotone about his fingers not working on the piano. I think we can all safely assume it's not a build up of charisma that caused the problem.

Moving right along to Natalie "That's right bitches, y'all better watch out" Gauci who takes over the piano to sing The Divinyls' Boys in Town. She's got her black leather jacket on so it's cledar she means business, not to mention the biggest earring known to humankind which is jutting out the right side of her head like a Foxtel satellite dish. She should get extra points for that - it must be hard to concentrate on your performance when you're getting Martha Stewart's cooking show broadcast straight into your brain.

I wonder if she gets the movie channels on that thing.

Suddenly she abandons the piano and struts out onto the stage, screaming about how she's just a red brassiere to all the boys in town. Yeeow, Natalie! Bring it, girl! Just as I'm musing on how much she looks like the long lost third Veronica, she mounts her Bunnings budget step ladder ($39.95 in this month's catalogue) and all of a sudden she's on top of the piano, yelling and looking hot. Everyone holds their breath for the moment of tragic irony where the piano collapses and sends her flying into the front row just as she's singing about how she musta been pretty low, but fortunately this never happens, and she pulls off a triumphant finish. A touchdown is surely imminent.

Dicko starts the praise fest off well by congratulating Holden. He then tells Natalie she's so good lately because she's been channelling all her heartbreak and tragedy of recent times into emotionally charged performances. So if she ever gets over that breakup she's going to have to push a family member under a bus or run over her own dog or something to help her get to the opera house. Marcia says she's incredible. She says Natalie is alright too. Kyle comes out with a classic quote:

"I've heard the rumours for years that one session with Mark Holden will change your life forever."

"YOWZA YOWZA YOWZA YOWZA!" shrieks Holden in response, which surprises no one. Then he gives Natalie a touchdown, which is even less surprising.

Could it be possible? Could Natalie actually steal the thorny Idol crown from Matt Corby? It doesn't matter how sharp he gets his wa-a-a-a-a-ah, SHE STOOD ON THE PIANO. Game, set, match, Gauci.

Moving on to Marty "Can you believe I'm in the top 5?" Simpson, whose version of Powderfinger's These Days sounds dire even in the pre-performance montage. Poor Marty's stuck in a studio with Holden, trying desperately to dig up more painful memories in a desperate attempt to show some emotion.

"Um, my family had some problems with money a few years ago, that might work...? Or actually my dog died when I was 12, I could think of that. Oh hang on, a friend of a friend had an ingrown toenail once. Well she wasn't really a friend, I just knew her through Facebook..."

Eventually they settle on some sort of family tragedy that is evidently going to make Powderfinger's song really POP.

"I get it, I get the pain of your mother in there!" exclaims Holden, slightly more excited than he probably should be.

Back on stage and Marty's got his guitar out, so his big, scary hands won't attack and kill him when he's not watching. He's taken These Days and slowed it right down, and kept every line in exactly the same meter so he can keep in time. GOD it's slow. Christ, it'll be These Weeks by the time he's done with it.

Kyle says he nearly cried a little tear during the performance - so he was bored to tears too? Holden says he's proud of him. And proud of Marty too (SNAP! Same joke twice in one recap!). Dicko gives him a backhander by saying he's in the top five despite his performances rather than because of them, and then comes out with the biggest dad joke of the evening: "You've turned it into Idle Australian instead of Australian Idol."

Moving along to Tarisai "If I yell loud enough I will drown out the voices in my head" Vushe with The Veronicas' When it all Falls Apart. How prophetic that song title will turn out to be in about five minutes' time.

She's rocking a new hairdo tonight - a Beyonce style straight fringe cut. It looks hot. It also looks like if it got too hot, it would melt. Honestly, is it synthetic, or have they just spent the last three days straightening her hair?

Speaking of synthetic, apparently a caller branded Tarisai "fake" on Kyle's radio show this week, and she's not happy about it. Instead of NOT GIVING A TOSS like everyone else in the nation, Tarisai spends her whole video package pouting, whining and bitching to Holden about how real she is. Don't worry Miss T - we can all see the REAL you now. And to be honest, we preferred the fake version.

Holden tells Tarisai to put all of her anger into her performance - so just for something different, she'll yell, look pissed off and stalk around. How novel.

Out on stage she scowls at the cameras, barks out the lyrics, throws the mic stand to the ground and gives the entire nation the evil eye. Fuck - vote Tarisai or she'll come round to your place and fuck you up.


Secretly she wishes she had a piano to stand on. And then set fire to.

"Yesssss YEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, noooooo oh NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO," she screams, confirming all those rumours about her having a split personality.

Kyle tells Tarisai to get used to the fact that not everyone is going to like her, and that people aren't going to care. Right on, man. She continues her pout campaign until he tells her she's a "bit of a nutter", which seems to delight her. So questioning her mental stability is fine, just don't call her fake. Holden and Dicko continue stirring the pot by starting a discussion about whether Tarisai is fake or real - can't someone just get up there and bite her or something? It works for gold. Holden concludes she's fake, and Dicko concurs, prompting Tarisai to launch into a Summer Heights High Ja'mie routine.

"I'm absolutely offended. I am SO not joking here. I am not fake and that was not fake," she spits.

Not to be outdone, Dicko comes up with a trump quote:

"You were like an angry Bratz doll."


Tarisai keeps protesting, but Dicko brings the smackdown.

"You only hear what you want to hear, you never listen to us," he complains.

"We could be slagging you off and you stand there and say 'thank you' like it's some beauty pageant. That's got to stop."

"I have been showing myself, I'm being real. There's nothing I can do about that," whinges Tarisai, as the rest of Australia is all "Seriously, WTF is going on here?"

There's only one way to save a debate of this type - Marcia?

"There's really nothing I can say," Marcia says.

Christ. When it all falls apart indeed.

Better move along to Carl "Admit it - you kind of like me now, don't you?" Risely, who announces he's doing Reminiscing by... oh for god's sake, LITTLE RIVER BAND? What the HELL, man?

"I'm actually surprised by Carl," says Holden as he shifts a few sliders on the mixing desk and blows up a small nuclear sub station in China. So are we, Holden - is he still really there?

"There's so much more to this whole singing thing than I ever thought there would be," enthuses Carl. It's crazy isn't it - you have to hold the microphone, sing into it, and sometimes walk around a bit. Unless you're in the advanced classes with Natalie Gauci in which case you have to stand on a few musical instruments too.

On stage and Carl's looking sharp in a black jacket and black open necked shirt, only slightly ruined by a few too many strange chains around his neck. Come on Carl, you're not a soccer player, leave the bling at home. He's channelling Bobby Flynn again with his epileptic hand movements, but apart from the fidgeting it's a very good performance. He's oozing confidence on stage now, and it's all very cruisy and sexy. Yes, Little River Band can be sexy. I think we've all learned something tonight, don't you?

Holden says it's a genuine challenge watching Carl pleasure himself every week. Whoops, sorry - I mean it's a genuine PLEASURE watching Carl CHALLENGE himself every week. Sorry. Then he channels Marcia and calls Carl a "real entertaining entertainer". Dicko says women at home are just hanging for Carl's date to come on sale. I could try and interpret that but I think it's best left as is. Marcia says he's never afraid to come out here - good thing, that, or it wouldn't be much of a show - and Kyle once again shows off his impeccable taste in music by branding Carl "one of my favourite artists of the year". Stay tuned for the ARIAs, in which Carl wins the Kyle's Choice Award - you don't get a trophy, but you do get unlimited access to Kyle's dressing room...

Be sure to come back for the results show wrap up - maybe this week Matt Corby will come out in a ballgown and ugg boots.

Hey, it'd still be an improvement.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Australian Idol 07 wrap up: Judges' Choice RESULTS

There's been a bit of chatter in the mee-jah recently about how Idol's Monday night verdict shows have been, well, REALLY FUCKING BORING of late, with too much G-RATED PADDING and not enough ARSE KICKING. Hear hear. So it's nice to see the Idols take a well deserved break tonight from visiting children with cancer / raising money for charity / rescuing babies from burning buildings to instead hang around backstage during their rehearsals and bitch and complain about things. And it's even nicer to see it was all caught on camera for our amusement.

If this is all part of Dicko's grand plan to spice up the show - huzzah, say I.
Enough of the Brady Bunch group singing - give us more backstage bitching and side of stage snarking!

Aside from all these fun and games tonight's verdict show also yielded the following nuggets of TV gold:

  • Matt Corby triumphantly rises above last night's combo vest-jacket fashion mistake by converting a K Mart toddler's nightie into a fetching T shirt:


  • Kate "It's pronounced derouge" De Araouguoou shows off the most impressive Idol cleavage since Lavina Williams on disco night when she sings her new single with the rest of The Boring Divas. She is only JUST outdone by an obese rapper with E cups.

  • Marcia reveals that where she comes from, her butt "is her calling card". I think we can leave that there.

"BUT WHAT OF THE RESULTS?" I hear you scream.

Tarisai, Marty and Mifdud make up the bottom three - no surprises there. Once again Marty's guardian angel refuses to give him a break by sending him back to the safety couch first. Seriously, what does this guy have to do to get voted out for god's sake?

Who will it be: Screamy or Scarfey? Whitney or Julio? Big Hair or Bigger Hair?

The vote is cast, the announcement is made, it's Dan. Ken Doll asks him to do one more performance of Fragile but it's too late - he's already started ripping his clothes off and howling at the lighting rig. Soon the transformation is complete, and he scampers off stage to join his werewolf brethren attacking tourists in the streets of Sydney.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Australian Idol 07 wrap up: Judge's Choice Night



I think I can safely say without any hint of hyperbole whatsoever that tonight Australia saw its best evening of televisual delights since Bert Newton called Muhammad Ali a boy at The Logies, or since that dog took a crap on Graham Kennedy's leg (or whatever the hell that clip is they keep dragging up every three years as if it's still funny).

On Channel 7 we had the country's biggest bingo game (BINGO! On TV! Can you imagine it? I can't!) while on Nine two old men argued over a worm and talked about tax reform. THRILLS, SPILLS, EXCITEMENT! But it didn't stop there - the ABC had a documentary about two geese migrating from Tibet to Nepal (if only they could have shared that worm with those two old geezers they might have made it) and SBS ran something on volcanoes. EXPLOSIVE! But all of that, of course, pales into insignificance when compared to the sheer thrill of seeing six NICE, MODERATELY TALENTED YOUNG PEOPLE singing 90-second versions of SEMI-POPULAR MUSIC for AN HOUR AND A HALF that was tonight's Australian Idol: Judges' Choice night.

Monkey Boy announces that for even further excitement, you can tune your wireless into Idol FM for a stereo simulcast. It seems tonight's fashion is also simulcast in stereo, as he and Ken Doll have both rocked up wearing exactly the same thing:

I think we can safely assume this is not the price of their outfits tonight.

Thank goodness Marcia is creating a point of difference, by dressing as Russell Crowe from Gladiator:

The judge who became a gladiator. The gladiator who became an emperor.

Kyle expresses his sadness over Ben Mackenzie-ayy-ayyyy-yayyeah being "arseholed" last week - I think I missed that part of the show (maybe you had to tune into the simulcast?), Holden says he wants "more kapow" and less "da doing", which makes about as much sense as usual, while Dicko announces he's looking for some entertainment tonight. Maybe he could try turning over to Channel Nine, I hear there's a couple of guys fighting over a worm on there.

Someone declares they're sending Tarisai home, and for a moment I know what true happiness is. Then I realise they've just sent her home for a day or two to videotape her gadding about with her family and such, in a last ditch attempt to prove she has some sort of personality. Sigh. There's always next week, anyway.

Marcia announces that she's chosen Taramasalata's song tonight, and it's Barry White's Can't Get Enough of Your Love Baby - excellent, because we all know how WONDERFUL Tarisai's lower register sounds.

Miss T comes out dressed in a delicious little sparkly black spiderwebby shrug that makes her look like a disco-fied prawn caught in a sequinned net. She's also wearing those tighter than tight jeans she wore a few weeks back (maybe she just hasn't been able to take them off yet). Seriously, why are those jeans so tight? Perhaps poor Tarisai has been horribly burned in a tragic stir fry accident in the Idol mansion, and has been forced to wear a burns bandage suit for the past three weeks which Sheridan Tyler has painted to resemble denim. Poor Tarisai.

It's a pretty sassy performance, even if she doesn't move much (although given she's caught in a prawn net and wearing surgical jeans we probably can't blame her for that). When she finishes she even says "Thank you" like a normal person - no head canting, no breathy, humble whispers. GO TARISAI!

Let's see what the official BC Idol worm thinks:


Holden says Tarisai's is an arousing opening. Christ, I know her jeans are tight but they're not THAT... oh wait. He said it was "a rousing opening to the show". Gotcha. Dicko checks his Idol meter and does a reading of Tarisai's tank, which he deems to contain 20% more. So what, she's keeping some in reserve - have you seen petrol prices these days? Marcia says "girlfriend 100%" (seriously, she does) while Kyle tells her she's got a sexy face and "a little head thing happening". Great, 10 minutes in and I've already made two obscene references. THANKS GUYS.

Let us move on to our next contestant, Marty Simpson.


Marcia has also chosen Marty's song tonight, and she's gone for the completely unobvious choice of Bob Marley's No Woman No Cry. Marty has matched this totally mind blowingly surprising song choice with an outfit straight out of left field - a brown Jay Jay's shirt and jeans.

He taps his foot incessantly throughout the performance - he's not keeping in time, he's actually sending a morse code signal to his fans saying F-O-R T-H-E L-O-V-E O-F G-O-D S-T-O-P V-O-T-I-N-G F-O-R M-E. And the performance itself? Put it this way - it was the 90 second version, and it was still too long.

Dicko comes out with the first top quote of the evening: "That had all the choreographic zest of a dole queue," which is, ironically, probably where Marty will be heading sometime next week. Marcia says the performance was "just fine", Kyle says he loved it, and Holden says Marty has a problem with his emotions. So, just the usual post-Marty run down then.

"How would you react if Daniel Mifsud turned up at your school?" asks Monkey Boy, apropos of nothing.

A bit like this, I'd imagine.

But then we see a short video of Mr Mifdud going back to the school where he works and his family home, checking out his bedroom covered in Australian Idol posters and pretending he hasn't been there for weeks, etc. etc. It's all very sweet. Until Holden announces he's chosen his song, and it's the Julio Iglesias version of Sting's Fragile. JULIO IGLESIAS? Actually, now that you mention it...

Spot the difference.

To be honest, Mr Mifsud is looking pretty fine tonight in a sharp, tailored jacket - and has he had a haircut? We approve, Mr M. Except all of that is negated when he breathes all the way through his performance perched on top of a stool. You can hardly hear him over the bloody bongoes - and if you're being outperformed by a set of bongoes you're in trouble. We keep waiting for him to dig his heels in and really kick the song off - but it never goes anywhere, it just meanders along on the dirt track to almost greatness.

Marcia says it was dynamite, and Kyle says he agrees with tomato. Tomato? Is that Marcia's new nickname now? Then Kyle says he thought the whole thing was really boring, so christ knows WHAT he's on about. Holden says it was a vulnerable, heartfelt performance with profound lyrics and HE BELIEVED IT, HALLELUJAH! Then Dicko ruins the moment by describing it as a "gaylord song", and everyone realises he's right.

Next up is Carl, who is shown going back to the navy to visit his old navy buddies in the navy where he played trumpet in the navy in the band with his trumpet. Trumpet, trumpet trumpet, navy navy trumpet navy. Trumpet.

Dicko has selected his song tonight, and it is to be Tom Jones' It's Not Unusual. Which, ironically, IS sort of unusual. Except it's not. But it is.

"Iiiiit's noooot unuuuuuuuusual," breathes Carl, as he kickstarts another of his slow, boring swingified numbers.

Australia picks up the nearest object and is poised to throw it at the television while shouting "OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE" when suddenly:

"Whoaaaah, stop!" shouts Carl.


"That'll never work," he says.

Say what?

"Whaddya reckon, John?" he asks the Foreman, who responds by kicking into a top gear, whizzbang, brassy version of the song. Wooot! A bit of comedy, eh? Clearly Carl got confused and thought tonight's theme was VAUDEVILLE NIGHT. But snaps to the C Man, it worked, it was cute, we likey muchly.

Carl's worm turns.

It's so cute we don't even mind when he finishes with a trumpet solo. Again.

Kyle declares him the frontrunner, Holden gives him a touchdown, Marcia reveals her after show plans by saying something about smashing and grabbing, and Dicko bemoans the distinct lack of undies on the stage (but fortunately doesn't offer to throw his own in to the ring).

Moving along to Matt Corby

who will be doing Holden's choice of The Music of the Night from Phantom of the Opera.

But first we're subjected to a short video of him going home to visit his family and schoolmates, for which he has thoughtfully dressed up as Worzel Gummidge:

Spot the difference.

Back to the stage, and it's Phantom time. Ok. This is either going to be an earth-shattering Anthony Callea The Prayer kind of moment

or it's going to be a Daniel Belle Rock DJ kind of moment

I know I know, we've all seen it before, but FUCK isn't it great?

As it turns out, it's somewhere in between. Corby's crisp, gorgeous, poppy upper register is battling for supremacy with his underdeveloped lower register - it's a bit like Pavarotti and James Blunt in a bar fight. (For the record - Pavarotti's dead and I'd still back him.) There's a triumphant finish, but it's not enough to distract us all from the truly tragic semi-lederhosen costume he's got on.

"Hallo, mein name ist Hans - you have sausage I might slap, ja?"

Holden goes on for about 20 minutes about how he posed that song as a CHALLENGE and it was so admirable that Matt took up the CHALLENGE because it was really CHALLENGING to sing something so different and CHALLENGING. Then he gives him a touchdown. Yawn - those things are a dime a dozen these days. Dicko says it was an idiotic song choice and he can't believe Matt agreed to do it. Holden retaliates by saying this was a good song choice, as Matt always chooses left of centre songs - yeah, like PHIL COLLINS, COLDPLAY, STEVIE WONDER. Come ON Dicko. Marcia praises Matt for his "vers-A-tility". Mmm-HMM. 100%, boyfriend. Kyle says he's not sure what bondage gear Matt's wearing but he likes it, and the orgy door is always open for him, he knows that, he just has to do the special knock...

Bringing up the rear (so to speak) is Natalie Gauci, with a song Marcia picked for her - Prince's Nothing Compares 2 U.

PRAISE THE LORD, SOMEBODY IS DOING THIS SONG. It should have been Matt Corby, as I suggested last week but never mind. It's hot, and someone should have done it earlier. MARCIA, YOU RULE.

"I know."

Sadly, Natalie's outfit is not quite as hot as her song choice. Actually, it's not hot at all. In fact, it's so far from hot, it could be an icy moon circling an as yet undiscovered planet on the outer edges of the universe.

Natalie is so far from the sun in this photograph, it had to be taken with an infra red camera at NASA headquarters.

Fortunately Natalie's own heavenly body and gorgeous face is enough to distract us from this hideous blue-1960s-mini-dress-patterned-tights fashion abortion. And of course there's always her voice - sublime, gorgeous, beautiful, she pulls out an absolute ripper of a performance. GO TEAM GAUCI!

The dip accounts for the 15 seconds in which the entire country went "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT OUTFIT?"

Dicko and Marcia both say they believed every single word of it, especially the line about "This bloody outfit is really un-FLAAAAA-ttering!!!" Kyle blurts out to the entire nation that Natalie is suffering over a bad breakup (go on, just expose her pain why don't you), then says it would have been better if she'd cried a bit, and then tops it all off with the "fuck you" cherry by telling her her bum looks big on television. He does sort of have a point about the dress though - it's possibly the worst Idol costume to feature in any of the five series. The only thing that even comes close is Paulini's infamous gold dress of yore:

Does this mean we'll get to see Kyle in a blue minidress in the pages of WHO magazine this Christmas? I bloody well hope not.

So that's six finalists and six performances down. What, you think that's it? SUCKED IN, THERE'S MORE. That's right, this week each Idol does TWO performances. Sigh. Here's the rest, in a slightly more condensed form:

Tarisai Take II whips out the Whitney for one more thrashing, meaning I can finally do this again:

I don't know what song she does, it's some bloody Whitney thing about "lerrrrve", that's all you need to know. To be honest I don't think anyone is paying attention to her singing either - everyone's distracted by the weird skin-tight sheath dress she's got on.

Clearly I was right with my surgial clothing theory.

There's a lot of wide-eyed Whitney shouting and some more low-register baying, and then it's back to the depressed, overly humble Tarisai we've come to know and ignore in previous weeks.


Marcia said she was waiting for Tarisai to use that extra 20% Dicko said she had in her tank. Tarisai says something completely bereft of charm or personality. No one is surprised. Kyle says she's a superstar, blah blah blah, she's amazing, blah blah blah, she's his favourite, blah blah. Then he injects a small shot of reality into the proceedings by declaring her dress "a tragedy" and saying she looks "just dodge". Holden says he wanted "more more more" - yeah, a bit more material on that dress wouldn't have gone astray. Dicko comes out with his second cracker comment for the evening:

"You look like a badly packed oven-ready turkey."

Oh, snap!

Moving on to Marty, who's back with his second serving of dullness with Pearl Jam's Last Kiss - oh goody, one of the most boring contestants in the whole competition is going to sing one of the most boring songs in the whole world. Still, there's only about three notes in it so hopefully he'll do ok.

He channels Johnny Cash by dressing all in black, sitting on a stool and playing his guitar. I flip over to Channel Nine and find myself mildly more entertained by watching John Howard talking about Workplace Relations.

I flip back just in time to hear Kyle come out with what is possibly the best quote of the entire Idol series anywhere in the universe:

"Trust a boy from the coast to get some fingerbanging action."

Um, some WHAT? For the confused: here. For the record: I think he was actually talking about Marty drumming his fingers on his guitar. I THINK.

Holden asks Marty if he related to the song, and Marty chirps up like a schoolboy who's just been asked the exam question he's been rehearsing for all morning, merrily telling Holden all about how his friend died in a motorbike accident and how he was able to use that as emotional inspiration in his performance. Did I get an A, sir? Did I? Did I?

"Nothing like a bit of last minute emotion to give a song some resonance Marty," snarks Dicko.

Let's move on to Daniel Mifsud, with the worst performance ever of Eskimo Joe's From the Sea. Oh, sorry, did I just give away that it was THE WORST PERFORMANCE EVER?

"Hello helOOOOOOOO!!" he cracks, as his falsetto barely makes it to the top note. Not even the Mark Da Costa tight black jeans are helping this week (and come on Mifsud, surely it's someone else's turn already?)

"Goodbye, goodbye," texts my sadly absent Idol sidecar Raoul Duke. I feel he may have a point.

Holden says it's like Daniel is choosing songs that he wants to sing, but he doesn't quite have the chops to sing. No Holden, it IS that. Marcia says what she dug about Daniel's performance was his performance, which makes total sense as usual, while Kyle says it's lucky Daniel's popular, because that was pants. And not the tight Mark Da Costa kind either.

Next up is Carl, with Jealous Guy. With what? Jealous Guy. What's that? I dunno, I think I've heard it before on Mix FM or something, don't worry about it, it's late, just keep going.

It's heavy on the drums, and even heavier on the emotion - Carl's centre stage pulling more faces and emoting harder than the local butcher playing the title role in the local Theatre Guild's Christmas production of Hamlet. Having said that, it's a pretty solid performance, even if he doesn't go for the high notes.

Dicko says Carl is turning into "the housewives' choice" - I thought Mortein was the housewives' choice. Or was it Glen 20? Kyle says Carl used to be underdone but now he's turned up the heat and cooked himself. Perhaps by next week he'll be medium rare.

Second to last is Matt Corby again, showing he is actually a modern, cool, young person by dropping the Lloyd Webber in favour of Death Cab for Cutie's Transatlanticism.

It starts with him seated at the piano, and WHAT THE BLOODY HELL? A piano?

Since when does Matt Corby know how to play the piano? WHO CARES, IT'S HOT. Fortunately he's also dumped the German bondage gear he was in before for the tried and true hoodie-over-suit-jacket-combo. All in all it's a great performance - although it wouldn't hurt if you'd look up once in a while, dear.

Marcia says it's the third time she's heard that song AND SHE'S ALREADY SICK OF IT, RARRR!

She's turning green again!

Kyle says Matt could "sing songs from the Satanic Verses of Satan and I'd still love it" - as opposed to that best selling tome, The Satanic Verses of Jesus. And in any case - would anyone actually be surprised if Kyle enjoyed that anyway? Dicko says it was absolutely sublime, the entire world agrees, let's move on to our final performer for the evening, Natalie Gauci, who is taking over the piano to do her version of Rihanna's Umbrella. Ella. Ella. Eh. Eh. Eh.

She's gotten rid of that fashion tragedy from before, but she's gone and replaced it with a painting smock made out of her grandma's tablecloth from 1976. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS GIRL? Are stylists just like kryptonite to her? Still, she's got such a lovely face and voice I guess we can forgive her.

For some reason she's stripped the only bit of the song that anyone likes ("ella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh,") right out of it, and turned it into a strangely lilting piano ballad, but somehow it works. It really does. TEAM GAUCI SCORES AGAIN!

Kyle attempts to make up for previously crushing Natalie's self esteem and breaking her spirit on national television by telling her she looks the best she's ever looked, which is PLAINLY UNTRUE (and actually sort of insulting). But then he declares Umbrella to be one of his "favourite songs", and everyone realises he knows nothing about music and ergo probably less about fashion, so it's all good. Holden says there was something magical about the performance, before going through his touchdown pantomime for the third time this evening.

"Hey Rove, should I give her a touchdown?" he yells, to which the response off camera is probably something like "I DON'T GIVE A SHIT, YOU'RE RUNNING 15 MINUTES OVERTIME INTO MY SHOW, JUST HURRY THE FUCK UP."

Dicko says it was perfect, and Marcia concludes the evening by saying it was a really interesting risk to take, given Rihanna is so large at the moment.


Stay tuned for Monday's results. My money's on Mr Mifsud.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Australian Idol 07 wrap up: The Year You Were Born RESULTS

Well. I mean. Well. What can one say after such a SHOCKING results show? Has the world gone mad? AM I TAKING CRAZY PILLS?

Taramasalata's off-key baying and Dan Mifsud's atrocious moonwalking attempts are overlooked, and Marty is sent to the floor. Nothing weird about that, given both he and the judges beg every Sunday to let him go home. BUT HE TAKES MATT CORBY WITH HIM. Shock! Horror! A hush falls over the crowd, interrupted by the odd weep and wail. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, SURELY NOT MATT CORBY?

No sooner has Idol's golden boy hit the deck than BOOM! Ben "I'm really Ja'mie from Summer Heights High" Mackenzie goes down too. IT'S MADNESS, I TELL YOU, SHEER MADNESS. Sure, every word he sings mysteriously seems to end in "ay" ("I shot the sheriff, but I didn't shoot the deputay-ay-yaayy-yeaaahhayy!") but come ON, he's NOT THAT BAD!

The lunacy continues when Marty is the first to be sent back to the safety of the Idol bench. And he actually WANTS to go home. Matt, ben, Matt, Matt, Ben. Who will it be? I can't look, it's all too horrid. I dive under the cushions just in time to hear the result - Ben is out on his ay-ayy-ayyyy-ear. Poor Ben Mackenzay-ay-ayyyyay-yaayyyyeah.

"Can I sit down?" he asks, before sitting cross legged on the stage and delivering one more rendition of his mild-to-medium Chili Peppers version of Higher Ground, Gandhi stylee. What a very zen ending to a very bizarre results show.

Next week: Monkey Boy and Ken Doll get naked and dance the lambada, Dicko sings the entire score of My Fair Lady backwards and Holden announces he's actually a woman.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Australian Idol 07 wrap up: The Year You Were Born

I'd like to start tonight's wrap up by stating that when I began this blog in 2004, writing about such amusing things as Iced Vo Vos and my feet, I had no idea that three years later the random title I plucked from the sky would so aptly describe the subject matter I chose to write about. Namely, Australian Idol on "The Year You Were Born" night.


But more on that later. First, tonight's QUICKNEWS:

  • Everyone sings a song from the year of their birth; Matt Corby declines to fully embrace the theme by wearing his birthday suit.

  • Matt Corby and Ben Mackenzie both announce they were born in 1990, the same year The Simpsons began. Telstra profits go through the roof as everyone over the age of 25 texts each other saying "OH MY GOD I FEEL SO OLD".

  • Matt Corby gets out his book of Ridiculous Claims and turns to chapter four, "Ridiculously Outrageous Claims" and reads the first sentence, which states that Phil Collins' Another Day in Paradise was the best song of the 1990s (of course, he would know, having been all of 10 years old when the decade ended.) Kurt Cobain hears this and rolls in his grave, then rolls back over again, comfortable in the knowledge that none of the Idols want to sing his songs.

  • Tarisai struts and yells and the judges praise her for her wonderful personality, which the rest of the country is yet to actually see.

  • Natalie Gauci gets out of rehab, goes straight into the psychiatric ward for split personality treatment after attempting to sing both Diana Ross and Lionel Richie's parts in Endless Love.

  • Daniel Mifsud manages to botch the high notes in Billie Jean, despite it being his turn on the Mark Da Costa tight black jeans roster.

Apart from Carl Riseley's nazi SS style spray-and-wipe jacket from last week, there hasn't been much fancy dressing going on in the Idol camp of late, so it's nice to see Holden has come dressed as Jacob Butler this week:

Marcia's also gotten in on the act, deciding to come as "disco inferno".

Now that's GLOSSY.

Kyle announces that he expects "every single person to be unbelievable tonight". It goes without saying that disappointment is imminent.

Speaking of which, let's kick things off with Ben "OH MY GOD, I WAS BORN IN 1990, NO SERIOUSLY, I'M NOT EVEN JOKING" Mackenzie, who says the best thing about the year 1990 was that "it was the end of the 80s". This seems like a funny comment coming from someone who appears to style themself on Adam Ant:

Stand and deliverrrrrr...

Tonight Ben's decided to go with the controversial "cover of a cover" option, by doing his version of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' version of Stevie Wonder's Higher Ground. As we all know, this is one of the greatest songs in the world, with one of the greatest video clips in the world, featuring the greatest pants in the world as modelled by Flea:

Sadly, as it turns out, Ben neither decides to actually do the rock version of the song OR wear pants made out of stuffed toys. Instead he does a wussed-out semi-funk number that sounds like what you'd get if you mixed Stevie Wonder with N-Sync in his usual uniform of a black jacket and a T shirt with an obscure design on it.

As usual he manages to look like he's doing maths equations in his head throughout the entire performance - either that, or he looks completely disinterested. He can barely muster the energy to move away from the mic stand. The only thing he seems to be passionate about is mispronouncing everything and adding the word "Yaaaayyyeahhhhaayy" to the end of every line.

Holden tells him that song had too much worldly meaning in it and he'd rather hear Ben do something more heartfelt. Or something like that - I'm a bit distracted, as I'm still trying to work out exactly what it is that Marcia's wearing. Dicko calls bullshit on Ben's "I'm doing the Chili Peppers version", and says it's just a sneaky way for Ben to get around the rules and sing a Stevie Wonder song. Hear hear. I'm sick of all this Idol rule bending - they need to install an Idol police force to deal with this sort of sneakiness.

The Idol police would SO look like this.

Then Dicko says Ben's gotten to his pointy end and fallen in between. Sounds like an infraction the Idol police would happily deal with. Suddenly, Marcia's roids kick in and she slams her fist down on the desk, yelling "I'M SICK AND TIRED OF PEOPLE PICKING ON YOU, DAMMIT!"


"I was going to sit here and be quiet but DAMN THAT!" she yells, as Dicko, Holden, Kyle and the rest of Australia looks on in horror.

"You took up most of my time talking SHIT," she yells at Holden, prompting him to do his best Wu Tang hand signs back at her.

"That means 'Whatever Marcia'," our little Gen Y-er Ben helpfully interprets. If only Holden would always talk in sign language we might have a better chance of understanding him.

We all wait for Marcia to overturn the desk again like she did during the audition circuit but sadly she calms down in time for Kyle to add some comment about Ben being a dark horse who could definitely win the competition - does anyone know the hand signal for "Whatever Kyle"?

Let's move on to our next victim, Marty "Let me go home you bastards" Simpson, who was apparently born in 1986 and so has elected to do Crowded House's Now We're Getting Somewhere. Whatever BC bonus points he scores for choosing to do the House are automatically taken away when he starts off the performance on a stool. We plunge into negative numbers when it becomes clear he's turned the song into a reggae jam.

A different type of jam.

Once again Marty manages to win Idol's "Biggest Contradiction" award by being one of the most likeable contestants with one of the best voices who still gives a performance unworthy of the Gol Gol Primary School music night. Please Marty, just learn to smile once in a while - look at Marcia's outfits if you need some comedic inspiration.

Dicko fills Marty with confidence once again by shouting "Dear God, are you STILL here?" before telling him he did a sensational job. Marty looks confused - not that this is unusual. Marcia says something about keeping his stools solid - maybe he needs more fibre in his diet? Oh no wait, she said that starting on the stool kept his performance solid. Gotcha. Kyle says he didn't feel it (which is OK because clearly Marcia did, and it was solid) while Holden says he's glad Marty's found his "Doobee doobee doo groove". Ben Mackenzie is just about to interpret this for everyone, but he's interrupted by Holden squealing that Marty is one of the worst performers they've ever had on Idol, and he's boring as batshit.

"I agree," says the super-amped, ultra confident, always enthusiastic Marty.

Given that Marcia's roid rage seems to be reserved solely to attack mild criticism of Ben Mackenzie's performances, she declines to defend poor Marty from Holden's barbs, and he leaves the stage defeated.

Moving right along to Natalie "I'm the oldest, and even I was born in 1981" Gauci, with Diana Ross and Lionel Richie's soppy duet Endless Love. She's had a hair cut, and it must be said: Girl looks SHARP.

You can tell a Wella woman anywhere.

Unfortunately it seems that whoever was cutting her hair slipped and fell scissors-first onto her outfit as well: A black satin dress cut so horribly short the front row would be getting a good view of her endless love themselves. But with hair like that, she can be forgiven.

Sadly her hair isn't enough to distract me for the full three minutes she's on stage, during which time I fall asleep twice and go to the bathroom once. She has a beautiful voice, but my GOD the girl is dull.

Marcia says she adores her, and her power notes were powerful (thank God for that) but the first note let her down, it was disjointed and it didn't have the flow it should have had. Dicko slams his fist down on the desk and yells "I'M SICK OF YOUR CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM!" before throwing a chair into the audience and headbutting a cameraman. Kyle corrects the imbalance by telling Natalie the first half of her performance was boring dribble, and she's not shining like a light. Holden tells her she's lacking passion and fire, and her batteries are running low (I guess that would explain why her light's not shining).

Moving on to Carl "Guess what? I'm not going to do swing this week. No really, I promise" Risely, who has decided to take the huge leap from swing to jazz. WOW. I mean, colour me surprised. Talk about comfort zones - THAT guy is really pushing some boundaries, right here.

He chooses the really hip and cool and not daggy at all 1982 song Turn Your Love Around by George Benson. Let's just have a look at some other songs from 1982 that Carl COULD have chosen, if he ever decided to do anything slightly different:

  • Survivor - Eye of the Tiger

  • Soft Cell - Tainted Love

  • Charlene - I've Never Been to Me

  • A Flock of Seagulls - I Ran

  • Kim Wilde - Kids in America

At least he's gotten rid of that bloody suit and tie - well, part of it anyway. The jacket still remains. Clearly that 12 step suit-abuse program he's on is working somewhat.

The song is the kind of tune that rich people did cocaine on yachts to in the 80s. If only Carl had some cocaine too it might perk up this performance a bit, which is SO DULL I find myself momentarily distracted by the tap dripping in my kitchen. By momentarily I mean for the full three minutes Carl is on stage.

Kyle says he likes Carl backstage, but onstage it felt a bit uncomfortable and awkward. Oh noes - is their "special" relationship coming to an end? Not to worry, Dicko announces he'd like to hear Carl do a "gay ballad", so he's a possible replacement. Holden says it's good to see Carl stepping out of his "comfort zone" (and straight into another comfort zone, you mean?) but then labels him a "one trick pony". A pony that can sing Sinatra. Marcia remembers she hasn't dropped any ebonics in a while and says "It's good to see you get yo groove thang awn, DYNAMITE!"

Speaking of getting it on, it's Matt "My hair is officially worse than Dan Mifsud's now" Corby, another product of 1990. Suddenly I begin to feel very unclean.

He perches himself on the stool (sigh) and launches into Phil Collins' Another Day in Paradise. That's right, PHIL COLLINS. To reiterate - Matt is 17 and HE CHOOSES TO SING PHIL COLLINS. Do you know what he SHOULD have done, dear reader?

Sinead O'Connor's Nothing Compares 2 U.

Think about it. It would have been WILD. Or Faith No More's Epic. Seriously - HOW AWESOME? Or Technotronic's Pump Up The Jam, that would have been cool too.

At any rate he does Phil Collins, he sort of does it well, but really. I mean it's Phil fucking Collins, isn't it? There's a limit to how good it's ever going to be. Plus he slows it right down to about three beats per minute - at this rate it'll be 1992 by the time he's finished, and he'll be able to do Achy Breaky Heart instead.

I also find myself agreeing with Holden's comment of a few weeks ago that Matt really needs to start developing a personality. If only the boy could grow some charisma with the same vigour he seems to be able to devote to growing his hair, he'd be sorted. And speaking of that hair - really Matt, something needs to be done. I don't want to be too much of a nanna, but it's getting a bit... bird's nesty. Put it this way - when Daniel Mifsud's hairdo is being compared to yours and coming off better, you need to start thinking about visiting the hairdresser.

Holden says some people are annoyed with Matt's vibrato, and it's the same every time he uses it. You can get Matt Corby vibratos now? That's merchandising gone mad! Dicko criticises the song choice (given that it's Phil fucking Collins) and Matt defends himself by coming out with one of the most ridiculous quotes of the entire 2007 series thus far:

"There wasn't much to choose from. The 90s weren't great for music. This was the best song of the 90s."

Given that he spent a full 10 years experiencing the music of the 90s, Matt obviously feels himself something of an expert on the subject. So screw you Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Radiohead, Oasis, Blur, Soundgarden, Pulp, Beastie Boys, Jamiroquai, Beck, Jeff Buckley, Garbage, Weezer, Foo Fighters...

Dicko manages to stop looking surprised long enough to say he hates that song, but Matt's version would probably make him go out and buy a copy of The Big Issue - SO HE COULD ROLL IT UP AND SMACK MATT IN THE HEAD WITH IT. Marcia bigs up her own daughter Deni for something to do with vibratos (you can get a Deni Hines vibrato too? I wonder if Holden will have his own made soon) and Kyle says it doesn't matter what old pile of crap Matt sings every week, as long as he keeps melting hearts. The fact that this is a complete contradiction of what the judges tell every other contestant every week doesn't seem to matter.

Next up is Tarisai "I'm little and I can sing real loud! What do you mean you're not impressed with that anymore?" Vushe with a song from 1987, Aretha Franklin and George Michael's I Knew You Were Waiting. She's obviously been sneaking some of Natalie's medication this week, as she has also decided to sing both parts of the song. Hopefully this means we'll finally get to see Tarisai's KERRR-AAAAY-ZEEE split personality the judges are always banging on about every week.

Like all the other Idols, she starts off on that bloody stool (seriously, what's going on tonight? Have they all been given thighmasters this week or something?) but she looks 10 kinds of disco awesome in a bright yellow T shirt, dark jeans and some funky curls in her hair.

The hair is slightly Oprah-esque, but I dig it.

Sadly her performance isn't quite as bouncy as her hair. Ok look, I know this is controversial, but I've had enough and I'm calling it right now:


I told you it was going to be controversial. Honestly, am I on my own here? The girl clearly has SOME kind of voice, I just don't know whether it's one that can sing or not. She dazzles with her big power notes and her strutting and sassiness, but THE GIRL IS NOT STRONG ENOUGH. In fact, for my second controversial statement tonight, I'm going to come out with:


There, I've said it. She might not be quite as exciting to watch, but she sounds a hell of a lot better. When Tarisai hits a high note or a middle note at a nice and easy tempo, she sounds fabulous. But serve her up a low note at a slightly faster pace and she sounds like Old Yeller baying to come in the back door.

Once again she serves up a big performance, and then finishes by becoming all meek and mousey and squeaking "thank you" in a way that makes you want to throttle her.

Time for the judges to roll through their post-Tarisai routine, which consists of all of them saying how fabulous she is and how she's got such a crazy fun personality and how "you never know which Tarisai you're going to get on stage every week". UM, YES WE DO: THIS ONE. Am I the only one who feels like I'm taking CRAZY PILLS? Where are these multiple personalities hiding? I swear I've only seen one: The three-minute diva who turns into a mouse.

Dicko says she's not quite the "real deal" yet, but she probably will be in two years' time. So might as well get your hat and coat, honey. Kyle says she's a "true artist", which seems an odd way to describe someone who thus far has only performed other people's songs. Holden tells her she doesn't have enough spirit, and he wants people to be screaming "Hallelujah!" when she sings. And they reckon that Hillsong story was a beatup.

Finally it's time for our last performer of the evening, Daniel "Can you believe I'm only 24? Seriously, don't I look at least 29?" Mifsud with Michael Jackson's Billie Jean.

Oh. No. There is no way this is ever going to be any good.

It's clearly Dan's turn on the Mark Da Costa tight black pants roster this week, which may help him hit those Jackson high notes but will probably hinder his attempts at moonwalking.

As it turns out, it doesn't help with either feat - his falsetto is terrible, and his dancing's not much better. All in all, it's a disaster. However I feel that if you squint, you could probably pretend you were watching the real thing.

OK, maybe not.

Marcia says that's one of her favourite songs in the whole world, AND SHE'S SICK OF IDOLS RUINING HER FAVOURITE SONGS, DAMMIT!


Kyle conveniently forgets that Dan has been in the bottom three at least twice already, and labels him "one of the more popular of this year's Idols", but then says that song just showed up his flaws. Like his inability to sing very well and his lack of dancing skills. Holden says he wants Dan to get more angry (maybe Marcia could give him some tips on that) and Dicko concludes the judging with a classic comment:

"That was like trying to recreate the Mona Lisa with felt tip pens."

"It fell short," he says, as the rest of Australia yells back "DUH!"

And so concludes the 80s/90s snore fest that was "The Year You Were Born" night. Stay tuned for Monday night's results.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Let the nannafication begin

It was my birthday last week. As far as I know, I turned 27. After tonight I'm not so sure.

Here's what I could have done tonight:

  • Gone to town to see hip hop legend Talib Kweli tear HQ a new one.

  • Put my hands in the air like I just didn't care.

  • Gotten funky.

Here's what I did instead:

  • Went straight home and put my dressing gown on.

  • Sat on the couch and watched the news, followed by A Current Affair and Today Tonight, including a fluffy 10 minute "report" on John Howard in which I ACTUALLY thought to myself "Maybe that John Howard's not such a bad bloke after all". Honestly.

  • Made tea. IN A TEAPOT.

  • Drank aforementioned tea with a few biscuits. SHORTBREAD BISCUITS.

  • Considered going to Talib Kweli gig but decided against it on the grounds that "it's too hard to park around there" and "it'll be a late night".

It's clear the nannafication process is well under way. I'm not sure if I can stop it in such an advanced stage of development. Anyone know any cures?

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

The Wonder Years gets the silent treatment

I had to post this:

If you've come for my Idol wrap ups, look no further.

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Australian Idol 07 wrap up: Britpop Night

Just in case you tuned in half way through tonight's show and heard Tarisai doing Queen, Jacob Butler murdering The Beatles or Daniel Mifsud doing The Police and thought it was OLD FART FM RADIO NIGHT, you're wrong. Tonight was, in fact, BRITPOP NIGHT, otherwise known as SHITPOP NIGHT or OBVIOUS JOKE NIGHT.

Of course, as we all know, the term "Britpop" is used to describe any music that has ever come out of Britain at any stage during the last 2000 years. I was hoping that Jacob might rip out a little Greensleeves and Natalie would bust out on Auld Lang Syne, followed by a jolly good round of Rule Britannia. That's britpop, right? What? It's music, it's English. What the hell else do you want?

Tonight's QUICKNEWS update goes a little something like this:

  • Carl continues to surprise and delight everyone with his versatility by doing a Michael Buble swing number. In other breaking news: Carl is in the navy and can play the trumpet.

  • Tarisai sings Queen's Somebody to Love and announces that it's the story of her life. The producers get on the phone to the kids' helpline.

  • Daniel and Natalie take their time machine back to 1993, return to the studio in chambray outfits.

  • Jacob Butler sings The Beatles. For the first time ever this season, Australia wishes he'd sung Oasis instead.

Right, nuff o' this pissin' abaht, let's get sorted, innit?

First up tonight is Carl "Buble is Britpop" Risely who, along with the rest of the Idols this season, has taken the songchoice rulebook and wiped his swing-loving arse with it by choosing the Beatles' Can't Buy Me Love - as done by Michael Buble. FOR BRITPOP NIGHT.

Seriously - is there any genre Michael Buble HASN'T done? Even if the judges announced that next Sunday was going to be "Tibetan Buddhist Chant Night", Carl would still come out and do Bodhisattva vows with a sax break in the middle and a big brass finish.

Clearly the black suit and tie he's worn every night up to this point has finally fallen apart, as he's had to replace it with a more durable, plastic version. It actually looks like the type of jacket and tie favoured by bouncers, Sea World employees and strip club attendants, as it's the kind you can clean with Spray and Wipe and a wettex. It's the kind of jacket you can commit crimes in - fitting for this performance, really, in which Carl takes The Beatles and Michael Buble, attaches spurs to their heels and makes them fight each other in a dark alley while angry, misunderstood types cheer them on and bet on who will die first.

And so Britpop Night begins, with a Canadian swing version of a 1960s pop song performed by an Australian sailor in a raincoat. Magnificent.

Holden says he admires Carl's single-minded strategy of sticking to his niche, otherwise known as DOING THE SAME DAMN THING EVERY WEEK. Dicko says Carl killed the song with too many jazz licks and thus invented a new genre, "snuff jazz". Thousands of teenage boys around Australia suddenly come up with a great new name for their garage band. Marcia tells Carl to stay who he is, as if he were in danger of changing at all. BELIEVE US MARCIA, IF HE CHANGED A BIT, WE WOULDN'T MIND. Kyle says it was a little bland, but he still loves him, and it's a good thing he's wearing that jacket because it'll be so much easier to clean...

Next up is Tarisai "You know that Tiramisu joke? It's like, so over" Vushe, who has decided to honour the theme of the evening by singing about the queen. How lovely for all the monarchists out there. All five of them. Oh no wait, sorry, I mean she'll be singing SOME Queen - Somebody to Love. From 1976. How this fits under the category of "Britpop" is never explained.

It's also never explained how Tarisai is able to walk around the stage in a pair of the tightest jeans known to humanity. These things are so tight, scientists had to work for years on an equation that would simply allow a normal person to even put them on, let alone zip them up. It's quite possible that if Tarisai bends over mid performance and splits a seam, the resultant forces will create an entire new solar system orbiting around her midriff.

"This is a little story about myself," she begins, before launching into lyrics about dying a little every morning and crying every night, feeling locked in a prison cell and having water on the brain. In the audience, Tarisai's parents start to look a little edgy.

It's a powerhouse performance, and clearly little Taramasalata's got the biggest voice in this competition - and yet somehow I JUST DON'T CARE. Somehow my interest level in Tarisai is inversely proportional to the amount of talent she has. I'm just supremely uninterested in her and her singing.

Dicko says he might have previously criticised Tarisai for having "the emotional intensity of a ringtone" (oh, snap!) but tonight she's awesome and stuff. Clearly he's still seasick after last week's cruiseship performance. Marcia gets her sista on by saying "I'm feelin' ya, mm-hmm, know what I'm sayin'?" Kyle makes the observation that Tarisai is different on stage than she is off for about the three millionth time this season, which (understandably) drives Holden into a psychotic rage wherein he shouts "YES!" about 12 times, screams "YOWZA! YOWZA! YOWZA! YAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!", and rounds it off with a touchdown. My own reaction was somewhat similar, only it ended in me clutching my head and moaning "NO MORE POWER NOTES!" while rocking back and forth on the floor.

As the audience members practically fall over themselves with excitement, Ken Doll steps forward with what may very well be the quote of the evening:

"It must make you proud to have everyone in this room do this to you while your mum's watching."

Moving right along, and it's Ben "I'm the only singing Queen around here" Mackenzie, who brings the first ACTUAL Britpop song of the night, Oasis' Wonderwall. Only he's going to sit on a stool (strike one), kick off with a flourish of this-song-is-going-to-be-wussy chimes (strike two) and breathe his way through the Disney version (stri... oh why even bother anymore). It seems recent evictee Mark Da Costa has bequeathed his skin tight black jeans to the Idol mansion, and tonight is Ben's turn on the pants roster to wear them.

"I don't believe that anybody feels the way I dowwww..." he breathes, clearly under the mistaken belief that mispronouncing words adds "vocal interest". It has to be said he has a lovely teenage pop voice and will probably sell a million records after his first single doesn't initially do very well but is later used in an episode of Grey's Anatomy - but I'm sick to death of his heavy breathing. Honestly, every song sounds like a government warning about the dangers of asthma.

Marcia has a little of what Holden's on and mutters something about light and shade and air and POW-AH. For the second time this episode, Kyle experiences a glitch in the matrix and gives Ben the same backhander he gives him every week, about how he's such a nerdy little runty geek but he's so talented. NOTE TO KYLE: GET A NEW SCRIPT FOR NEXT WEEK. Dicko continues the backhander theme by saying Ben's a real contender, and gave a lovely performance, but he wished he hadn't because it was like something they'd roll over the end credits of a Disney film and it was basically a big pile of crap. Holden gets out his Idol calculator one more time and tells Ben he needs to add two more notes to his range. Only two. AND NO MORE THAN THAT, DAMMIT. Inspired by Kyle giving the same comments over and over again, Holden cracks his favourite gag about Tiramisu for about the 999,432nd time this season.

"If you call Tarisai Tiramisu one more time I'm going to punch you in the throat," says Monkey Boy, who has somehow managed to channel the thoughts of the entire nation and express them in one concise sentence.

Moving on to Marty "Please stop voting for me, no seriously I want to go home" Simpson, with some song by The Kooks that you don't know, and even if you did know it there's no way you'd recognise it the way Marty's singing it.

He's barely even trying in a cardigan, sneakers and jeans, and when he sings it's so garbled and chewed up it sounds like Bobcat Goldthwaite eating a racoon. The less said about this the better.

Kyle says he didn't care much for the song. Is THAT what that was, a song? Then he says something about his snatch, I'm not sure what, I'm too busy doing feng shui claps around my living room to rid it of the evil spirits of bad music that Marty has haunted it with. Dicko tells him he's hopeless and people should stop voting for him, Marty says he agrees, and Holden says something about chops. Perhaps he's already organising Marty's farewell barbecue?

Let's press on with Jacob "Britpop is my middle name" Butler, whose entire life has been working up to this point. All those years spent in dingy bars singing Blur covers, night after night practising the four chords to Wonderwall, all that effort put into growing his facial hair just so - ALL OF IT has been leading to this one, shining night of promise, in which he'll finally get to show who is the most Britpop of them all, BY SINGING LET IT BE.

That's right dear reader: After weeks and weeks of torturing us with all the dodgy Britpop he could muster, Jacob FINALLY arrives at BRITPOP NIGHT and elects to do The Beatles. Bastard - I bet everyone he'd do Song 2.

"When I find myself in times of trouble..." he starts singing, as my Idol sidecar Raoul Duke and I start sighing deeply.

THIS IS ONE OF THOSE TIMES, JACOB. Especially when he hits the chorus and can't even hit the high note on "be". Dear Jacob, why didn't you just do Song 2? You could have jumped about the stage and thrown yourself around and EVERYTHING. You could have even worn your adidas jacket again.

But Jacob's not one to let an opportunity for looking like a nob in a national arena pass him by. "LET IT BEEEEEEEEEEE" he shouts, pushing the mic stand over and staring meaningfully into the audience, before finishing with a triumphant air punch straight from The Big Book of Cliched Rock Moves. Somewhere, Mutto feels a chill.

Holden asks Jacob if he can give him some notes - namely A, E and C Flat, all of which Jacob broke tonight. Dicko says Let it Be is a real dog of a song that even McCartney couldn't do justice to. Upon hearing The Beatles being criticised Marcia leaps to their defence, saying she didn't know that they'd written any bad songs. OK Marcia, the Idols appreciate the way you bolster their egos with constant praise and such, but there's really no need to go defending Yellow Submarine or Octopus' Garden. Half of the band is dead anyway, for fuck's sake. Kyle says Jacob's got a few ticks this week, so he should probably go to the vet and get a special shampoo or something.

Next up is Daniel "Redefining the hair helmet" Mifsud, who looks like he might have actually had a haircut this week. I hope he had enough time to practice his singing - that sort of operation would take days, surely. He's doing another spurious "Britpop" choice, Message in a Bottle by The Police. Honestly, can't the Idols be suspended for this crap? Or at least grounded.

Dan does his best Bobby Flynn impression on this one, and yeah, it's alright, but zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Sorry, did I doze off there? Sorry, what I meant to say was Daniel does have a lovely voice but it's just a bit AHijkfejbeek%$%__ sac %22332sgre4. Sorry, sorry, I think my head just hit the keyboard for a second there. Look, put it this way, if Daniel DID have a message in a bottle, it would read


Dicko says that song means a lot to him and Dan over arranged it to within an inch of its life. So I think we can safely assume that if Dicko read Dan's message in a bottle, he'd rip it up and throw it back in the ocean. Still slightly groggy after Dan's performance, Marcia momentarily confuses Australian Idol for Over Arranging Songs Idol and says she thought over arranging songs was what this competition was all about. Then Daniel says something and puts her into a deep sleep. Kyle tells Daniel he has a whole lot of ticks in boxes - maybe he's the one who gave them to Jacob? Holden says he loves Daniel because he's not afraid to feel, and let us see him feel. Honestly, sometimes this stuff just writes itself.

Let's move on to Natalie "If I don't win this I'm totally going to get a job on Play School" Gauchi, who bounces in all smiles and announces she'll be doing Amy Winehouse's skank anthem Rehab. And we said noooo, noooooo, noooooooooooooo!

Given that Amy Winehouse is a broken down, drug-addled, anorexic dirty girl who sings like a gin-joint tart who regularly eats cocaine for breakfast, it's rather unnerving to hear her lyrics coming out of a girl who could reasonably be mistaken for a primary school librarian.

In fact, watching her happy little Brady Bunch face singing about going to rehab is like watching Tigger doing Marilyn Manson. The only substance I could possibly see Natalie Gauchi going to rehab for abusing is Berocca. And maybe Equal.

"This is like something you'd see down at the Italian club on the weekends," cackles Raoul. No, surely they have REAL skanks down there who could do this better?

Shocked into speechlessness, Marcia bangs on about how Amy Winehouse has atttitude and hair and she's like, crazy. A tumbleweed rolls past, as everyone thinks of what they're going to say next. Kyle says she needs to get more of a junkie slag thing going on. Although if next week is "love ballads" night that might not work quite so well. Holden says he's on Planet Disney watching Snow White go to rehab, which makes everyone think maybe HE'S the one who needs to be checking in. Dicko says the way Natalie sang that song he expected to see the solid gold dancers pop out behind her and dance with giant hypodermic needles - Amy Winehouse take note! This would make a top video. He also berates her for the "poor taste" in choosing the song (Amy ain't going to rehab, she's going to the funeral parlour), to which Natalie responds by doing an impression of Miss Teen South Carolina.

She doesn't start with the infamous "I personally believe" but she does manage to wank on for about two minutes about how Rehab isn't just about rehab, but about music and the power of music and how music is the way, and the power of music can lift you up and... er... um... music?

The first tumbleweed does a U-turn and comes back across the stage.

Finally, we end the show with a little bit of Matt "So I'm hot, that doesn't exempt me from getting my hair cut and wearing normal clothes" Corby who has donned his best David Jones' houndstooth silk dressing gown to sing The Verve's Bittersweet Symphony. Well, if you're going to roll out of bed and straight onto the stage you might as well wear STYLISH sleepwear.

Surprise, surprise, he does a good job. Again. It's actually almost getting boring how consistently good Matt is. It does seem somewhat unfair to criticise someone for being consistently excellent, but I'm going to do it anyway. Hey, no one's perfect. Except for Matt. Which is precisely why I'm criticising him.

Kyle says they need to put a warning on the screen before Matt comes on so girls don't smash their faces against their TVs. I'd laugh at this hilarious joke, but I'm too busy nursing my jaw from where I smacked it into the TV set. Holden gives him a touchdown. Yay. Dicko goes for the hat trick of same comments and once again mentions ticks in boxes. At this rate they're going to have to get in a pest removal guy, or everyone's going to end up with lyme disease. Marcia says something about either a) being true to yourself, b) telling a story through song or c) mm-hmm girlfriend.

And thus ends Shitpop night. Stay tuned for Monday night's results update.

PS: Dicko, my word challenge from earlier today still stands. Make it glossy, come awwwn!

MONDAY NIGHT'S UPDATE: Bloody hell, are we already at the Opera House? No, we're only up to week eight, not that you'd know it from the way Jacob Butler stank up the joint when he was booted from the show tonight. Le Butler pulled out more ham than a butcher's shop to serenade the crowd with Let It Be one more time (thanks, like we ever wanted to hear THAT again) - wandering through the audience, other Idols and judges and touching people like he was Jesus coming back for seconds. To use a Dickoism: "It was totally NOBLIKE". Over and out.

It's my birthday and I'll blog if I want to

You may notice, dear reader, that the digit formerly known as '26' in my header graphic has undergone a change, and morphed into a '27'. That's because TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY amd I am now one whole year closer to not being cool anymore.

So, before I trundle off to my fabulous birthday lunch, I'm giving an advance notice to all the Idols: IT'S MY SPECIAL DAY, SO DO A GOOD JOB, DAMMIT. Or actually, do a really TERRIBLE job, that's much easier to write about.

And Dicko, if you're reading this ahead of filming: As a birthday request, I challenge you to use the word "glossy" as creatively as possible on tonight's show.

See you after Idol, peeps.

Monday, October 01, 2007

Australian Idol 07 wrap up: Acoustic Night

Watch out people, Idol's getting SERIOUS right about now. And you know how I know? Because it's ACOUSTIC NIGHT. That means the Idols get to play INSTRUMENTS. That's how you can tell they're not just record company puppets, but true ARTISTS with FEELINGS and EMOTIONS and RAW TALENT. And in Carl's case, HIS OWN TRUMPET.

First up as always, the QUICKNEWS update:

  • Ian Moss stops by to pretend to be interested in Australian Idol for an undisclosed amount of money. Sadly Daniel Mifsud blew his Rolling Stones allocation with Miss You last week, so no one gets to make a joke about gathering moss.

  • "The man in black" Mark Da Costa plays a white guitar and sings a red hot blues version of Yellow, turns the other Idols green.

  • Natalie, Marty and Jacob mishear "acoustic night" as "spastic night" and try to outdo each other in the ridiculous facial expressions stakes.

  • Kyle admits he treats his music the way he treats his women, which makes me think that having sex with Kyle would involve a lot of back announcing ("That was ME playing with YOUR BOOBS there, that's always been a massive hit!"), possibly a few prank phone calls and ultimately go for no longer than three minutes so he could cut to an ad break.

  • Everyone uses the word "strip" a lot, but sadly it's in sentences like "I'm going to strip this song back to its roots" rather than "Look over there, Matt Corby's doing a strip tease!"

Enough dilly-dallying, let's get on with it.

Clearly feeling left out after all of Holden and Dicko's touchdowns, "tickos" and "sickos", Marcia has decided to trump them both by dressing up as an Academy Award.

"I'd like to thank God, and the Academy..."

Kyle says he's looking forward to stripping, and one million viewers reach for the nearest receptacle into which to dispose of their partly digested dinners before he finishes the sentence with "back all the bells and whistles of the Idols' performances."

First up we have Mark "I used to be annoying but now I'm getting steadily more awesome every week, so sucked in" Da Costa with Coldplay's Yellow. Hmm. He's also decided to do a blues rendition of it. Hmmmmm. And he's wearing those tight black pants again. Hmmmmmmmmmm. Actually, ARE they even pants? I've never seen him without them on, so maybe they're his actual legs. Maybe he has some sort of disability in which he was born with black stretch denim instead of skin, and covers it up with flesh coloured foundation everywhere on his body except for his legs, where it's sort of acceptable. Maybe he had to endure years of judgement and schoolyard taunts about it before he finally found the courage to celebrate his differences, and now finds inner peace by immersing himself in rock and roll culture, where wearing the same pair of black stretch denim jeans every day of the year is acceptable, nay - encouraged. Because if that IS the case then I sure do feel bad.

Apart from strumming a glow in the dark white guitar that looks like something you could only buy in Tamworth, and singing "every THANG you do", and not even attempting any of Chris Martin's falsetto, and playing like he's in some sort of Britpop saloon in the wild west where hookers crowd around the honky tonk pee-anner while the barman slings beers down the bar and cowboys snarl at each other and say "This song ain't big enough fer the two of us,", and finishing the song with a weird "HAW!" noise that sounds like a sound effect from a kung fu movie - it's a pretty hot performance. No, seriously. It's low and lazy and pretty sexy. Am I turning towards Mark Da Costa? Could it be possible? Does it even matter, given that Matt Corby's going to win anyway?

Holden blathers on about light and shade and versatility and says it was a cool arrangement. Dicko says that honky tonk version of the song would make Chris Martin roll in his grave - well yes, it MIGHT, if Chris Martin were actually dead, Dicko. Marcia says she loved the humour in it, particularly the bit where Mark made the joke about aeroplane peanuts being hard to open - that is SO TRUE! Ah, classic. Kyle says he treats music like women, because you can't be hard all the time, and Mark found a soft bit, and he pushed the counter meal to the side at the pub and really listened to that. A tumbleweed rolls through the studio, as we move on to Natalie "You think THAT was honky tonk? Wait for this" Gauchi.

Seated at the piano, she pulls out a delicious version of Michael Jackson's Man in the Mirror. Jacko doesn't seem to do that one anymore. Funny, that.

Nat's clearly confused by the whole piano/singing/being filmed thing, and so alternates between looking at her hands and looking surprised.

"I can't believe how good I am either!"

She looks lovely (when her eyebrows aren't trying to escape her head, that is), sounds gorgeous, and pulls off a truly wonderful performance. This sucks. If all the Idols are going to be good tonight I'll have nothing to say.

Dicko continues his quest to out-touchdown Holden, dropping the "ticko from Dicko" call of last week for a "Fully sicko from Dicko!" Not bad, not bad. I'd like to think I had something to do with that. Marcia says Natalie has listened, and suffered, and blossomed, and listened, and suffered, and suffered, and listened, chaka-chaka-khan, chaka-khan... eventually Dicko kicks her chair and she snaps back into place with a "Thank you darlin'." Kyle says it was beautiful, Dicko calls for a touchdown, Holden withholds. Only he knows the true worth of the touchdown.

Moving right along to Carl "I'm going to do Michael Buble and Harry Connick Jr every week until I'm forcibly stopped" Risely. In a move that surprises no one, Carl announces he's going to sing Harry Connick Jr's version of Cole Porter's Alright With Me. And he's going to play the trumpet. Did you know that Carl can play the trumpet? Oh yes, he's a trumpeter with the navy! Didn't you know that? Funny, I thought they'd mentioned it AT LEAST A MILLION TIMES THIS SEASON.

Carl's clearly borrowed Holden's Idol calculator to work out the exact ratio of swing to pop required to please both teenage girls AND their nannas, as he announces "We put a half beat into the song and improved it tenfold." Then he struts out in that bloody black suit and white shirt again - seriously, this is getting beyond a joke now. Surely the rental fees are through the roof on that thing now. SHERIDAN TYLER ARE YOU HEARING THIS? DRESS THIS MAN IN SOMETHING ELSE, PLEASE.

Carl blasts out a bit of trumpet to kick start the song (he's a trumpet player, don't you know), then pauses to take the one breath that will hopefully get him through the rest of this very fast, very wordy song without expiring. Although he manages a rat-pack like throw to the band in the middle, he gets a bit breathless towards the end - he might as well have been performing the McDonald's "two all beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame seed bun" song, for all the puff he's got left. He manages to finish his performance off with a small "PARP!" on his trumpet, before he collpases of asphyxiation.

While the paramedics rush in with an oxygen mask, Marcia says she's happy Carl got to show off his trumpet ability. Yes, because it was such a secret before, wasn't it? Kyle gives what he considers to be the highest praise available by telling Carl he could have watched a whole concert of that. Sure he means on television, with the sound down, but he still would have WATCHED. Dicko says Carl's a real contender, and his performance was like watching someone audition to be in the rat pack. I like to think that auditioning to be in the rat pack had more to do with how many people you could get to blow YOU, rather than showing how well YOU could blow, but anyway.

Next up is Jacob "Britpop got murdered? The Butler did it" Butler, with another wussy UK band song, Somewhere Only We Know by Keane.

He strides on stage in that bloody black vest, white shirt and red tie combination that I swear he's worn every week since auditions. And yet I can't find any video evidence to prove my theory. Dammit. Spurred on by Natalie's "surprised" performance earlier in the night, Jacob tries to outdo her with his impression of Alvin from The Chipmunks.

If only he sang as high as Ben Mackenzie, he'd have that impression in the bag.

The performance is alright, but it's a bit like Jacob himself - not all there. I can safely say that I sang along to this at home and actually sounded better. Then the buzzer on my microwave went off and that sounded better still. And don't even get me started on my kettle's falsetto.

As soon as he's finished he goes through the Jacob Butler post performance ritual: Smile wanly for half a second, grip the microphone and look at your shoes, sigh deeply, look disappointed, give up on life.

Kyle says it was dead boring. Then says it was worse than that, it was like the music they play at the end of the Channel 9 Christmas carols when people are walking back to their cars. If Holden has the touchdown, Kyle owns the smackdown. Holden lets out a big yawn and starts gearing up for his weekly amateur dramatics performance of That Was Disappointing, but is intercepted by Marcia who recognises that if Jacob isn't perked up soon he may just impale himself upon the microphone in despair. Now THAT would get a touchdown. Marcia does an impression of a fortune cookie by saying "A great performer takes people to a place, and in your eyes, wherever you went, I wanted to follow." The car park, according to Kyle. Clearly dazzled into temporary insanity by Marcia's all gold ensemble, Dicko says it was simple and pure and he was absolutely mesmerised. Actually, IS he talking about Marcia's outfit? Holden checks his Idol meter and says Jacob only gave 60 to 70% when they needed 130%, which technically, is mathematically impossible. So unless Jacob invents a new strain of advanced mathematics by 7.30pm tonight, he's possibly a goner.

Moving on to Matt "We all know I'm going to win, so what's the point?" Corby. It seems even Ian Moss is taken with Le Corby, as he announces that he's been pretty keen to have a blow with him since he saw his first audition. I think we can all agree with that, Ian. Then they play that particular song again, which means I get to do this:

And I think Matt Corby has been about 5 of them...

Matt continues the blowing theme by doing Damien Rice's The Blower's Daughter. Over on the judging table, Dicko gasps in adoration of his adopted son's ever-increasing knowledge of obscure, alternative music.

He slacks on stage looking like he's just rolled out of bed - clearly Jacob's performance put him to sleep, and he hasn't had time for a shower or change of clothes. Either that, or he's taken my advice about starting his own fashion range crafted from tea towels.

Sorry Matt, did we wake you?

It's a beautiful performance, full of emotion and poetry and high on sex appeal. Although he could do with brushing up on his Dean Geyer stares, it's all a bit sleepy-eyed for my liking. "I can't take my eyes off of you," he croons, which is rather ironic as he barely looks up during the whole performance. The audience doesn't mind though: They're so excited they do a premature cheer halfway through the second chorus.

Holden says Matt is one of the most brilliant people they've ever had on the show, but refuses to give a touchdown. THAT makes sense. Dicko says something about there being some backstage shenanigans tonight - Kyle's ears prick up and he makes a bolt for the door to make sure he's in time to fluff up Matt's pillow in the orgy room. But not before shouting "THAT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL I WOULD LIKE YOU AND I TO BE GAY LOVERS." Shit. If the Idols are going to perform well and Kyle's going to start stealing my gay jokes I'm seriously going to have to shut up shop.

Next is Daniel "My hair has its own support technicians" Mifsud, who has whipped out the Greg Brady vest one more time to sing an acoustic version of KISS' I Was Made for Loving You. Oh. Shit. This has disaster written all over it.

Sadly, he's foregone the makeup, but given his hair has made its final transformation into "helmet" I think we can assume that if he were in KISS, his character would be that of Roman Centurion.

"Make mine a Mifsud, thanks barber."

"I can't get anough of you baby, can you get enough of meeeee?" he sings. Uh, yes daniel, we can. We got enough about two and a half minutes ago, actually.

If you missed Daniel's performance, don't worry, it's quite easy to recreate it at home. Grab a broom and prop it upside down against the wall, pop a couple of valium and then take a KISS 45 and play it on 33 (for all you kids out there, just run the batteries down on your iPod a bit). Hey presto!

Clearly Dicko has made the mistake of looking in Marcia's direction and has become blinded again, as says he loved Dan's performance. Kyle says Dan held him from start to finish, and even though he didn't go up he wasn't disappointed. There's only one way to move on from a comment like that, and that's with a touchdown - Holden obliges for the second time this season, although god knows why given that Natalie and Matt were far more deserving this episode. If you missed the touchdown moment, this is what it looked like:

And in the most perfect segue ever, we move on from wailing children to Ben "I'm not a wailing child" Mackenzie, who's chosen to out-obscure Matt Corby by doing a song by Imogen Heap, Hide and Seek.

"I personally feel uncomfortable singing high notes," says Ben.

"Nice try!" laughs Australia in response.

But it seems he's so uncomfortable that he starts his song by channeling Barry White, singing so low I start to wonder if maybe his voice has finally broken. But then he slips into a higher register and it's back to the Benji we know and love. But this song is a tragedy. What are those lyrics? And are the violins off? Is that an echo effect on the microphone? And since when has he known how to play the piano? What the HELL? I feel like I'm in a bad acid trip - if they cut to Marcia's Oscar-dress there'll be no saving me.

"You don't care a biiiiiit," Benji sings. That's right mate, spot on!

Marcia says "I love ya, love ya, love ya..." and Dicko has to kick her chair again to tick her over. "I didn't know that song and I loved it, and I love you," she squeals. Kyle gets out his weekly Ben Backhander by calling him a freak that blew him away. Backstage Carl hangs his head in shame - he thought HE was the only one who blew things around here. Holden says Ben's brilliant, Dicko says he's too meek, and then steals my joke by saying "On the bright side you'll inherit the earth." Snaps to the D for that one.

Moving on it's Tarisai "Isn't this episode OVER yet?" Vushe, to do Desree's Kissing You, otherwise known as "That song that every teenage girl played incessantly in 1997 until it became so ear bleedingly annoying that simply playing its opening chords was enough to drive most parents into a violent episode".

"I'm hoping to strip this song down to a good acoustic version," she says. Funny, I don't actually remember it being anything BUT...

She looks lovely in a floaty canary yellow dress - and by floaty I mean ACTUALLY floaty. Seriously, is she levitating?

"Wait til you see me saw John Foreman in half!"

But apart from the dress, this performance is absolutely awful. Actually it's beyond awful. It's utterly, UTTERLY dire. So dire in fact that had she performed it on the infamous Rock Night, it probably would still have won the award for worst performance. Her voice is undeniably strong but she holds every note for about seven hours - at this rate by the time she's finished the song she will have already been voted off. It's so frustratingly slow I feel the urge to punch my television, but instead I go to the kitchen and make a cup of tea, a lamb roast and a serve of peking duck. When I return she's just up to the second verse. So I punch my television.

Kyle says Tarisai is his favourite Idol, and that she has multiple personalities. Clearly tonight's personality is "SLOW AND F*CKING BORING". Holden says it was a great lesson in vocal control, which would be great if we were all sitting here hoping to get some vocal coaching, instead of be entertained. Marcia says she doesn't know who Tarisai is. Or where her medication is. Over his temporary insanity by this stage, Dicko brings the single voice of reason to the panel by saying Tarisai's performance was a bit "cruise ship", not to mention cheesy and horrible. I'm thinking roquefort, myself.

Finally it's our last performer, Marty "I'm scared of my own hands" Simpson, otherwise known as Aggro, with his acoustic guitar rendition of some song by Snow Patrol. Snore. He strums his guitar, he looks cute, he sings properly for the first time this season, and the audience claps along. It's a triumph. He might not get a touchdown for this, but he certainly wins the crazy facials award for the evening, putting Jacob and Natalie into second and third place respectively.

"Just one...more...push and...UGH."

Dicko says so far Marty has overpromised and underdelivered, but now he's heaps better and stuff. Marcia says she's happy he got a chance to play with his instrument on stage. I must have missed that bit. Kyle tells Marty he has two choices: Become something great and have money and women all his life, or have the money and women until he's 40 and living in a caravan at which point no one will talk to him because he's a tragedy. Is that a trick question? Kyle, you scamp!

And so we reach the end of acoustic night, thank the lord above. Jacob was bad, Tarisai was worse, but surely the Butler's luck is up... Stay tuned for the results.

MONDAY NIGHT'S UPDATE: Tarisai's singing crimes are overlooked and Werewolf Le Scarf, Mark Da Rocksta and Jacob Butthead all make the bottom three. Scarfey is the first back to the bench - surely it's Jake's night to go. BUT SHOCK, HORROR, our rockstar is unceremoniously dumped from the Idol lineup. What the HELL? And just when I was starting to like him, too. Make sure you tune in on Sunday for BRITPOP NIGHT, otherwise known as JACOB BUTLER'S WET DREAM NIGHT or THE IDOLS KILL OASIS AGAIN AND AGAIN NIGHT.